User blog comment:Brigadier Barty/Redwall Wars: A Deadly Turn/@comment-2246928-20150328064428/@comment-2246928-20150329011019

Virago stood at the railing, watching the sun descend ever so slowly into the scarlet distance with a bored expression on her face.

She could only hope that by the end of the day, that at least she wouldn't ever have to see another Arrow ship looming like a fat, black insect upon the horizon, spelling out death to any slaving or corsairing crew unfortunate enough to get in their sights.

However, despite killing their last leader, Galdrim wasn't convinced. And that, was why Virago, and the snaggletoothed shiprat hanging about portside, were out on the deck, and not inside celebrating with the rest of the drunk, singing, feasting slaver crew.

If they saw even a hint of sail, they were to report, or Galdrim promised that they were going to get dragged out in front of the crew and skinned alive with a broken knife blade.

The slim, pretty features of Virago grew ever more bored and tired as the evening wore on, her whip and knife stuffed into her pawmade belt. It was mouse.